Almost There
by ladygalaxyj
Summary: She guessed they were both getting used to the idea of not seeing each other again. It was slightly different for James though, because she'd be there when he'd get home, waiting for his return. Helen/James Post-Tempus


_I actually posted that one on Livejournal about a month ago, but forgot to post it here. When RL is crazy..._

_Disclaimer: Sanctuary and its characters are sadly not mine. This is for entertainment purpose only._  
><em><span>ParingsCharacters: Helen, Helen/James, past Helen/John_  
><em><span>Genre:<span> Angst/Romance_  
><em><span>Rating:<span> PG_  
><em><span>Word count:<span> 2900_

_Set post-Tempus. So spoilers for that episode and anything before. The fic lifts off at the very end of the episode and covers a few weeks after the events._

_Thanks to ClassicCouples for the awesome beta work. Honestly, I don't know what I would do without you. :)_

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><p><strong>Almost There<strong>

Her head resting on James' shoulder, her gaze losing itself in the continuous flow of the Thames underneath their feet, Helen thought about James' last words. The mere thought of reliving the last century was unsettling, but he had made a valid point. Suicide wasn't an option she wanted to contemplate and his idea made far more sense than ending her life. Truth was, she didn't really have a choice in the matter. She took in a breath of fresh air, tension leaving her muscles as her body leaned into his, as he allowed herself the rare opportunity to be held by someone. She felt his arm coming around her waist and his fingers gently, unconsciously, stroking her side. She closed her eyes and let the nagging sentiment of loss she had felt ever since stepping into the era crawl through her skin. She missed him terribly. James… _her _James, as she referred to him in her mind. He had been taken from her in front of her eyes and she had been helpless to do anything to save him. He had died in her arms and yet, he was here, right now.

Helen found herself wishing she wasn't the eldest Magnus in 1898 London. She would have liked to relive the next 113 years as herself – her real self. If she were to be honest, there were many things she would change. She couldn't imagine how she was going to live through everything again with the knowledge she had now. Changing the past was tempting, but she couldn't let herself think about it, not after all the trouble she had gone through with Adam. She'd give anything though to be able to stay at the Sanctuary, to stay with James, and to keep the life she knew. She wished she still had the innocence of her younger days, without the overwhelming burden of the last hundred years.

She felt James pull back and lifted her head to meet his eyes. Helen could read the concern behind his pupils and, somewhere hidden underneath, his love. She was the same Helen to him, yet different, and she could sense his hesitation when he was around her. They hadn't been officially a couple until the 20th century. She knew he was already calling her darling, and she very much responded to his advances, but John had been too close to her heart for her to move on at the time. Perhaps he still was, but she didn't let her mind venture in that direction. She would have plenty of time to think about it over the course of the next century.

A small smiled graced Helen's lips as she saw the sparkle of intrigue in James' eyes. He would probably give anything to know what was going on in her mind at the moment. She thought it was somewhat funny that she could read her detective friend better than he could read her. She had the advantage of years of practice and a relationship with him, but his look of confusion at her smile made her heart leaped as a giggle escaped her lips. Helen Magnus didn't giggle. But this situation was far from anything she ever thought she would experience and she couldn't help it.

"Give her time," she told James, letting her gaze drift back to the beautiful sunrise before them. She sensed his eyes on her for a few seconds before he followed her gaze and stared at the horizon as well. "She'll come around," she added swiftly.

"Helen…" he warned her. His voice however held an ounce of curiosity he probably hadn't been able to shake off completely, which made her far happier than it should have.

"I know. Nothing of the future," she amended herself, chuckling softly. She let her gaze wander on the river, following its flow in a comfortable silence. "I missed this place," she admitted as much to herself as to him.

James glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "You could stay if you want," he said, sounding almost hopeful. "I'm sure we could find you a cottage not too far from the shore. You'd be on your own, but should you ever need help…"

"We can't do that James, and you know it," Helen cut him. "Who knows what we've already altered by chasing down Adam this way and not the way I remember it." She turned to him, her hands lingering on his arms and bringing him around to face her. "Minimal interference. It's the only way we can go." As she let go of him, she let her fingers trail down his arms longer than she intended, but he didn't call her on it. "However," she added with a small smile, "if you're offering to help me get settled in this era, I'm gladly accepting your proposal. I could use a course on Victorian property."

His chuckle made her brake into a grin. How much she missed this. James' laugh had always made her smile. This time however, despite the smile, she couldn't stop a veil of sadness from covering her eyes. He seemed to notice since he turned back to the door and offered her his arm, preventing her thoughts from drifting too far in her past, "We better start right away then," James said. "There is much to cover."

Helen couldn't help a sigh as she took his arm and looked up in false indignation.

"No rolling those beautiful eyes of yours Doctor," he corrected her right away as they headed back inside, resulting in another genuine laugh on her part.

As the silence installed itself again between the two of them, Helen surprised herself thinking James was right. She'd need to adapt to life at the beginning of the 20th century again, but perhaps it wouldn't be too bad.

#####

The cottage they had chosen was small and tidy, but she didn't need anything else. Her possessions were few and would remain this way since she intended to spend most of her time travelling. Staying too long in the same place seemed too dangerous to the timeline. For now, her new house was far enough of everyone she knew or would meet in her near future not to influence her own life. She had a nice view and frankly, that's all she was asking for.

Helen stood on the balcony of her new home, starring at the horizon. With his connections, James had opened an account, putting in a few savings for her to use until she was able to provide for herself. She was glad for his help, but today would be the last day he'd see her. He had told her he had one last surprise for her, which was why she was waiting on her balcony. She was watching the small path leading to her cottage with intensity, as if it would make him arrive faster.

When she saw him at the end of the road, she happily went down the stairs to greet him at the door. He had a big package in his arms, but that didn't stop him from embracing her. Touching and hugging had rapidly become a habit between them, as if they had always known one another, which was kind of right. Helen didn't know what was happening between James and her other self, but she knew he had grown attached to her in the last few days and she had easily fallen back into her old habits. Telling him this would be their last day together would most likely hurt him – and her – but she had too. They had already spent far too much time together.

"What's that?" Helen asked him, eyeing the package he had in his hands.

James smiled as he headed straight for her kitchen. He set the large box on her table. "That, my dear," he started as she joined him, "is a gift."

"For me?" she asked, surprised.

"No, for the Queen," he joked, making her roll her eyes at his dubious sense of humour. "Open it."

She did so. Lifting the lid, she let out a soft gasp, her eyes unwilling to acknowledge what they were seeing. In the box were four beautiful gowns, all more graceful then the other one, covered in silk and pearls and everything she liked. She'd never thought she'd wear anything half as elegant as these dresses again. Helen looked up at James, at a loss for words. "James, you shou…"

"From your favourite dressmaker," he told her. "I trust your size hasn't changed in the last hundred years?"

She wanted to laugh, but no sound came out. Her eyes wouldn't leave the contents of the box. She hesitantly took the first dress in her hands, as if afraid the fabric would tear itself up under her touch. Feeling the softness of the fabric on her skin, she took in a breath, unsure of the proper reaction she should have. It had been so long… He had outdone himself again; making sure her future journey went as smoothly as possible. Helen turned to him. "Thank you James," she said sincerely. "For everything. I wish there was something more I could do. You've been too good with me. I'm sorry I can't tell you…"

"Go no further Helen," James replied waving her thought with his hand. "We've been down that road before. Don't say anything you might regret."

She nodded, putting the dress back in its box with the others. He was right of course, but it was hard to let go of her memories. She made tea and focused on enjoying her evening with him. She still hadn't told James this would be the last one they spent together, but somehow, he knew. And Helen knew that he knew.

Night fallen, she saw him to the door. They had been awfully quiet for the last fifteen minutes. She guessed they were both getting used to the idea of not seeing each other again. It was slightly different for James though, because she'd be there when he'd get home, waiting for his return. For Helen however, it felt like losing him a second time. At least, this time, she got to say goodbye properly.

Helen didn't know how long they spent staring at each other before he broke the heavy silence, "I didn't make it, did I?"

"James…" she said helpless, her heart breaking, yearning to tell him everything she hadn't the first time. His name wasn't an answer to his question, but a plea, and Helen suspected he knew. It was probably better left unsaid.

"Right, sorry," he apologized, not really meaning it.

Helen didn't say anything. She could sense that he was reluctant to leave. She bit her lip. She was the one responsible for their current situation. They shouldn't have spent all that time together. She should have known better, but leaving him was hard and she hadn't wanted to face the reality of her situation right away.

"Can't you at least write once a month?" James asked out desperation. "Just so I know you're alright." His voice sounded broken, and her heart ached at seeing him like this. She hadn't wanted to make this hard for him.

Helen shook her head slightly, sighing. He sure wasn't making this easy for her.

"One last thing… and if you can't answer, it'll at least give you something to think about for the next century…" he started shyly, looking in her eyes for her to allow him to continue. She nodded, not seeing any wrong in one more question. He took in a breath and said, "I know John is still in your life. You mentioned him earlier…" He then paused, allowing her time to take in the subject of his questioning. "Can you tell me you're happy?"

_Happy_. She hated the term 'happy'. Happiness couldn't be defined; Helen had learned that much in 160 years, and she doubted the next 113 would provide her a better answer to that question. She looked down, closing her eyes to fight back the tears. _John_. She could feel the cold steel of his blade on her neck as if she had been the one trapped in the corner of her study with him. Yet, she remembered the feel of his warm body as they lay together in Cambodia only a few months ago. He had lied to her about Adam then, again. She'd told him horrible things in the caverns of Hollow Earth. He had sacrificed himself for her to live and save the world. Again. The worst part was that she couldn't let him go, not completely. There was – and would always be – a small tingle in her stomach whenever they were in the same room. _Happy_. Helen Magnus couldn't imagine herself being happy. She had been once, when Jack the Ripper hadn't been a constant in their lives. She had been a happily engaged woman to a man she adored, with a close best friend she adored all the same and could always count on. It had all been taken away from her, in the most violent way possible. Who was she to think the next century would be better?

She'd been living the last week in denial. James gone, what would she do? He was the one who made it bearable. He had made her life bearable ever since John destroyed her heart. His death had been one of the hardest moments in her life, tied to Ashley's… Truth was, she didn't want to live through it all again.

James probably sensed her internal struggle because his index immediately found his way to her chin, lifting her head back up. She stared at him through the water filling her saddened eyes. She couldn't even tell him how important he had been to her, how important he was. She felt a tear trail down her cheek and chastised herself for being so weak in front of him.

She felt a soft pull on her chin and, the next thing Helen knew, his lips had found hers, in a passion that was undeniably James'. His left hand went up her side to the back of her neck as he closed the distance between their bodies. His other hand took hers, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. As much as she wanted to yell that this wasn't the way things were supposed to happen, that they weren't doing the timeline any good, she found herself helpless against his touch and let him take complete control, savouring the familiar feel of his mouth and the soft scent that was irrevocably him.

Helen gasped when she felt him pull away. Their eyes met and they stood on her porch for a long time, staring at each other, unwilling to break the spell of this moment. "To help you go on," he whispered softly, slowly backing away from her. "Whatever happened or will happen in your life Helen… Please, try to be happy. You owe me that much."

She nodded silently, not trusting her voice to speak. He closed the distance between them again, this time giving her a sweet kiss on the forehead.

"Goodbye Helen. Take care," he finally said, turning back before she could answer anything, not that she would have.

Helen watched him leave, feeling the weight of her knowledge heavy on her shoulders. She could never see him again, nor write him. The last few minutes merely served as proof of that. James was yearning for a Helen that had let go of John enough to let him in. While she had reached that level, she couldn't use this advantage for her own need for solace. She had had her chance; it was her other self's turn.

She needed to leave. The cottage was lovely and perfect, but she couldn't stay here. The many precautions they had taken while choosing her a new house didn't matter. Her old life was still too close. She'd leave him a note. James would most likely come back in a week or two out of concern for her.

But this Helen Magnus would be long gone.

#####

A chill ran up her spine despite the heat. She was leaving London, heading for Paris. From there, she'd board another train, and another one, until she was far enough away from anything remotely close to her previous life, until she was far enough from him.

113 years.  
>41,160 days.<br>987,840 hours.  
>59,270,400 minutes.<p>

That was how much time she needed to spend alone.

Helen felt terribly empty, like a ghost, living yet not completely, wishing she were someone else. In the train bringing her far away from home, for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to break into tears. She didn't have to keep up a brave face; she didn't know anyone. Loneliness gripped her chest as the minutes passed. She was growing older with each passing one, but she felt as fragile inside as a small child. Her heart was cold; she was cold.

She wiped her tears. Helen Magnus didn't cry. Never. She was a businesswoman, who had lived more than her share, who knew better.

What she wouldn't have given in that exact moment for the military putting its stinky nose into her things or the call of an angry woman from the UN.

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